It's not even the physical books that my loved ones give me every Christmas, no matter how pretty they actually look. It's the time to sit and read them, in relative peace and quiet.
Because there is always a moment on Christmas Day when the kids have run themselves down, and everybody else is full of food and other indulgences, and there's nothing else to do except sit and relax, and crack open a new book or two.
Like most years, I know what I'm getting this Christmas - a collection of the Slow Horses novellas, because I burned through the main novels way too fast; and this year's 2000ad annual, which is a gift to myself, bought months ago, received weeks go, and left unread until today. I got the one with the retro Bolland cover, of course, and even glimpsing that before needlessly wrapping it up and putting it under the tree was a solid dose of willpower.
We have a 3-year-old and a 5-year-old in the house, so Christmas is obviously all about them, but it's also worth taking a moment for myself, and indulging in the latest adventures of Slough House and Judge Dredd, because that's a big part of what the holiday season is all about.
Merry Christmas to all, and borag thungg, Earthlets!
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